


Knockout

by fiction_in_my_veins



Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boxing, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Badass, Boxers, F/M, Fanfiction, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Reader-Insert, Secret Crush, Soft Diego Hargreeves, The Umbrella Academy - Freeform, plus sized reader, tua fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 11:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19083895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiction_in_my_veins/pseuds/fiction_in_my_veins
Summary: You have it all. You’re a revered fighter, have an excellent support system of friends and family and spend most of your evenings with your crush, sweaty and hot on a mat. But when a chance at finding loves knocks on your door in the form of your crush, Diego Hargreeves, will you let him in or shut him out?Requested: Highly requested.“Could I request a Diego x plus size fic maybe where she’s a badass boxer but she is also kinda insecure when like Diego asks her out maybe thinks it’s a joke or something?”





	Knockout

**Author's Note:**

> A few things I’d like to mention.  
> 1.  There’s a Sylvia Plath quote hiding in here. Let me know if you find it.  
> 2\. I spent nearly two full hours reading up about boxing terminology, just in case.  
> 3\. I recently saw Never Back Down so boxing is all I can think about anyway.  
> 4\. I might have changed the request a little bit because the reader suddenly had a life of her own and the story refused to be written in that particular way.

You ducked and avoided Diego’s approaching fist, and threw an uppercut which he skillfully dodged. This was routine for the two of you, pairing up together to practice anything from old school boxing to mixed martial arts. Diego needed it to be a good vigilante and have an outlet for his anger, though he wouldn’t admit that to anybody. As for you, you just loved the blood singing through your veins, sheer power flowing through your muscles.  
You were quite the fighter in the gym, paralleled only to Diego, and he too, was aware of your repertoire of deadly moves.  
Currently, he was trapped in a Peruvian necktie choke.  
“Give it up, Hargreeves. You know you’re not going to last longer,” you said as you tightened the hold.  
He remained silent. A smart move, considering he only had a limited air supply.  
“Either you tap out or you break the fuck out of it. The clock’s ticking,” you said.  
A few seconds passed and you tightened your hold on him, using the strength in your arms.  
People were often deceived by your size. Nobody could believe your agility and strength as an MMA fighter until they saw you in action, thanks to your plus sized body. Quite a lot of spectators had trouble comprehending your skill but little did they know that you could knock an opponent out in a minute flat (you were known in the MMA circles for doing that thrice).  
You hear a grunt followed by a tap on the mat and you immediately release the man, helping him onto his back.  
“Hey, breathe. Long, deep breaths,” you said, burying the concern in your voice.  
He simply nodded and you gave him a moment to adjust, rubbing his chest, trying not to feel him up under the thin, sweat- soaked t-shirt.  
“Damn, baby. You are vicious,” he said as he sat up.  
You smirked and both of you rose up, headed towards the water coolers.   
“Same time tomorrow?”  
“Only if you promise to actually put up a fucking fight,” you said, laughing.  
He draped his arm around your shoulders and your heart skipped a beat.  
“I do it so that you don’t cry yourself to sleep Y/N,” he said.  
He walked you to the door like always and waved goodbye.  
You walked the rest of the way home feeling warmth in your heart as you tried to hold on to the memory of his arm touching your bare shoulder a little longer.  
Your crush on Diego wasn’t new. You fell for his nocuous moves and dirty, dry sense of humor. And when you caught a glimpse of him changing into a tank top one evening, there was no turning back.   
Each night before bed you replayed your practice with him, trying not to combust from the sheer emotion you felt when you thought of his hands on your body. The moments where he pinned you to the mat and you waited several moments before you got out of his hold.  
The next day at practice Diego was late. You quickly warmed up and picked up a pair of battle ropes. You bent your knees and got into position, visualizing the motion in your head and replicating it with your hands. You dropped the ropes and began walking over to the bench, to give yourself a minute as well as wait for Diego to show up.    
You halted to a stop, surprised to see him leaning against a stationary pole with his arms crossed across his chest.  
“Hargreeves, what are you doing? Are you seriously standing here and checking out these girls as they work out?”  
The corners of his mouth turned.  
“I was watching you.”  
A charged moment passed and you got a hold of your sensibilities.  
“Yuck, does that line ever work?”  
He tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear.  
“It’s not a line,” Diego whispered and walked towards the mat, ready for your paired practice fights.  
A couple hours passed and Diego emerged victorious, courtesy the new fluttering in your heart since his comment.   
 He helped you pack your gym bag, his caramel arms flexing with each move. You stood there, silent and observing, swooning a little and falling for him a little more.  
“Come on, I will walk you home,” Diego kindly offered.  
You snapped out of your reverie.  
“Diego, really, it’s fine. I can walk two blocks by myself, thank you very much,” your voice a smidge sarcastic.  
“Don’t be like that Y/N, I want to walk you home. And  I think a bit of fresh air will do me some good,” he said, toeing the floor.  
You immediately felt a pang of guilt. You knew he lived in the gym, in the cold basement. His desire for fresh air was understandable and you were hardly going to say no to a walk with him. Despite of what you had said earlier, you agreed and he swung his arm around you and both of you walked out into the street.  
Thirty minutes and a quick detour to a smoothie shack later, you arrived at your building.  
“Thanks for walking me home, Hargreeves,” you said.  
“Thanks for letting me,” he replied with a smile.  
He handed you your gym bag, your fingers brushing briefly against each other.  
You wished him a good night and turned towards the door. As you took a step towards it you felt a warm hand around your wrist, leaving your hand outstretched between your bodies.  
You turned to face him and he stepped closer, his hand dropping to yours.  
Your heart was neatly lodged in your throat as you took in the proximity of your bodies.  
“Y/N,” he said.  
“Diego,” your said, your voice barely a whisper.  
“I’d like to take you out, Y/N, on a proper date. Roses, moonlight, the whole deal,” he said.  
He registered the alarm on your face before you could comprehend it.  
“Or anything else. Whatever you want, babe. We could go to boxing match and cheer or take another walk,” he said in a single breath, words gushing out.  
You closed your eyes for a moment and reopened them and stepped back, giving yourself a little space to think.  
“Diego, why? Is this your idea of practical joke? Why are you asking me out, because that would actually imply that you like me and why on earth would you like me?” you asked becoming increasingly agitated.  
“Why do you think I like you?” he quirked his eyebrow, the scar glistening under the city lights.  
He stepped closer taking both of your hands in his.  
“You are you. Unapologetically and unabashedly you. Very few people do this anymore. It’s too risky. First of all, it’s a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. It’s much easier to be somebody else or nobody at all. And you own every single part of being you.”  
You were stunned, speechless even. All your words had scrambled out onto the street after his declaration.  
“And well. You kick my ass at MMA so that’s also incredibly hot,” he said with a chuckle making you laugh with him.  
“You’re being awefully quiet. Please, say yes. I promise you won’t regret it.”  
You smiled up at him, getting lost in you dark eyes framed by the scars on his face.  
You leaned into him, your lips an inch away from his ear.  
“Pick me up at 8 on Friday,” you said, placing a chaste kiss on his scruffy cheek, before running off into your building.  
You rushed up the flight of stairs and ran into your apartment, looking out the window.  
“Don’t you dare be late, Hargreeves. I have stockpile of chokes you haven’t even heard of,” you scream out into the street with a laugh.  
“Wouldn’t even dream of it,” he yelled back.  
He waved and blew you a kiss and then disappeared into the street.  
You relaxed into your couch, replaying the conversation in your head, your stomach populous with butterflies.  
You sighed a romance-novel sigh.  
Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> All of you, thin, fat, chubby, curvy, super tall, super short, somewhere in between, I love each and every one of you.


End file.
